


Photogenic

by Saraste



Series: Femslash February 2016 [27]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Stark and A Tyrell, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, F/F, Femslash February, Pining, Romance, Scarf-sharing, Starcrossed verse, Winterfell, Wizarding Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa looks at her favourite photo of Margaery, bereft of her company, and so afraid for the future now that Margaey's graduated Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photogenic

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to write something so angsty today, this just happened. This was maybe something which should have gone to a later instalment of this verse but what the heck, here it is now, anyway.

 

Sansa sighs, fingers tracing at the photo in her hands. It's a wizarding one, meaning that in it, Margaery swirls about, robes flying around her and her hair flying wildly about her face, which is mouthing out words not audible now, but Sansa hears them well enough.

 

She can't look at it for long and not want to cry. She still remembers that last embrace at Kings' Cross, the way Margaery had _clung_ to her, like she 'd never wanted to let go. Sansa hadn't wanted to, either. In that embrace she had been so afraid, even when she was so filled and buoyed by their love, of the future which seemed so very grim and uncertain, especially now that they were in it. 

 

Now all she has is this photo. Well, not just this one. There's the snapshot of her and Margaery kissing this past Valentine's Day, taken by Loras, and a number of others, but Sansa cannot bring herself to look at it, or any of them. Then she _would_ burst into tears for certain. 

 

There is snow falling about Margaery and clinging to her wildly open hair as she spins and spins, snowflakes catching in the scarf, _Sansa's scarf_ , that she has looped around her neck. Sansa's hand curl around the one wound around her neck right now, green and silver. 

 

'It wasn't the end…' she whispers to herself. She has to believe it to be able to…  anything . She cannot cry now, having only been apart from Margaery for about five hours. 'It  _wasn't.'_

 

When she closes her eyes, the memory of laughing bright eyes and freely bestowed, easy affection envelop her, and she can believe.

 

She remembers Margaery dancing wildly in late-December snow, Christmas Day morning, in fact, and of herself snapping the very picture she's clutching now like a lifeline. They'd spent almost a week together in the otherwise empty sixth year girls' dormitory, in and out of bed, their happiness occasionally tinged with a sorrowful inevitability, by the thought that this was a last chance for them to do something like this. That it could very well be their last Christmas together. The beginning of the end.

 

They'd prowled the grounds, marvelling at the snow covered trees and plantation, immersing themselves in each other's company. Making memories which might become all they would be left with when all was said and done, all being Margaery's life as a post-Hogwarts graduate.

 

Sansa stumbles back into the here and now, into a sunny, pretty June afternoon, secreted away in a corner of the gardens at her home of Winterfell. Margaery would like it here, she thinks, even if things are still being set to rights after the War… for the castle and grounds had burned as You-Know-Who had been on a rampage near the end. _The gardens had burned._ But over a decade of care and dedication had brought them slowly back to bloom, most of it actual non-magic care, as there were things which magic could not fix.

 

In the photo, the smiling Margaery swirls and swirls, mouthing “I love Sansa Stark!”. Sansa cries, finally, wishing that the fact that she's a Stark and Margaery a Tyrell could be fixed with the flick of a wand.


End file.
